


in times of war, the ambassadors doth speak

by saintjoy



Series: Historystuck [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Derogatory Language, M/M, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintjoy/pseuds/saintjoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You feel an elbow nudge you and turn to see your head commander aiming a stern look at you. "He's the German ambassador, you fuckwad. You shit this up and they could take over the Free Zone for good, now go over to him and make yourself into a vague and poor imitation of being amicable." You snarl and try not to roll your eyes. "That's an order, Ampora."<br/>"I'm gettin' to it. Does the ambassador speak French?"<br/>"You know these German pricks, they got that shitty attitude that speaking the language of those they deem below them is a sign of weakness. He'll do everything he can to make you step down first and start looking for a common tongue." Your commander suddenly grabs your collar and yanks you down to his height. "Whatever the fuck you do, don't play games. You have 10 minutes of socialization before they call the meeting. Don't wet yourself."</p>
            </blockquote>





	in times of war, the ambassadors doth speak

_France, October 1942_

 

Your eye twitches and you suck in your teeth at the mere sight of him. Garish red armband with that despicable four-pronged symbol glaring at you from across the room. Cocky bastard think it funny to show up at an international meeting wearing sun cheaters that make his eyes virtually invisible. Lousy, arrogant, stuck-up German dropkick. The very way he walks like he's a wind-up soldier, oh, how it grates at you and makes your skin crawl. He's less than human. He's just a mere mechanism fashioned by the hand of Adolf Hitler himself to hold no emotion or compassion for even a crying child with his leg blasted off. Thinking of him as inhuman eases the tension in your shoulders.

 

You feel an elbow nudge you and turn to see your head commander aiming a stern look at you. "He's the German ambassador, you fuckwad. You shit this up and they could take over the Free Zone for good, now go over to him and make yourself into a vague and poor imitation of being amicable." You snarl and try not to roll your eyes. "That's an order, Ampora."

"I'm gettin' to it. Does the ambassador speak French?"

"You know these German pricks, they got that shitty attitude that speaking the language of those they deem below them is a sign of weakness. He'll do everything he can to make you step down first and start looking for a common tongue." Your commander suddenly grabs your collar and yanks you down to his height. "Whatever the fuck you do, don't play games. You have 10 minutes of socialization before they call the meeting. Don't wet yourself."

"If I did I'd make you wash it." He slaps your back in that unexpected forceful way he always did and sends you off on your way. Good old Commander Vantas.

 

You take your steps in a casual manner that doesn't let on to anyone immediately that you are making your way over to the German ambassador. When you find yourself standing in front of him, you force a smile and stick out a gloved hand to greet him. "Evenin', Ambassador. It's a pleasure to meet you." You exhale when he latches onto your hand and gives it one shake.

"It is against my beliefs to speak the language of the occupied. I trust that you've learned German." You flinch and your smile tightens. God damn the Germans.

"I'm familiar enough with it to understand you, Ambassador, but I hardly have a mastery over it."

"If you speak German, then why do you not speak it to me? Do the Japanese speak Chinese when talking with their ambassador?" You realize you're still holding hands and you snap yours back with harshly curled fingers.

"Of course, Ambassador," you reply, switching to the harsh tones of his language. The lack of elegance about it makes you want to vomit. "I ask if you are doin' well?"

"I'm well."

"That is good to hear, Ambassador. I am also doin' well, in case you were about to ask."

"I wasn't." Your toes curl in your stiff shoes. "Why are you speaking to me, Mr. Ampora?" You don't show surprise that he actually cared enough to know your name.

"I would have thought that exchangin' a few pleasantries beforehand would allow for easier compromises durin' the--"

"I have no compromises to make with France, Mr. Ampora. I'm simply here as a formality." He smirks at you and brushes back a platinum hair behind his ear. "Germany is already on its way to global domination with our allies in tow. There's nothing you can do to cease our conquests." The smile seizes up on your face and twists into your favorite scowl. Enough with the fucking politeness.

In a hushed voice so your commander couldn't hear, you mutter, "Just you try, you rat bastard. The lot of you are disgustin' arrogant heretics, is what I have to say about you." He chuckles and lowers his voice to the same level as yours.

"I'm glad that the feeling is mutual. Nothing is worse than a hatred that isn't requited."

"Wouldn't you know."

"Care to explain what you mean by that, Ampora?"

"Maybe you'd know if you had any other emotions than hate, Strider."

"Gentlemen!" The two of you turn around in unison to find the Marshal standing behind you. You take off your hat and bow your head in respect. You have half a mind to spit on his shoes, too. "The meeting is about to begin. Please take your seats."

 

He purposefully takes the seat next to you and you know that this is going to be a very, very long day.

 


End file.
